In His Golden Eyes
by DefineNormalitee
Summary: A series of drabbles from the point of view of our favourite sorcerer and friends. PLEASE review!
1. January

**Date: January**

**POV: Arthur**

**Stimulus word: Brother**

**Dedication: everyone who reviewed 'Footsteps' – thank you!! This is for you!**

**AN: Thank you for coming this far – opening this insanely ambitious dream of mine. I hope to write a drabble for each month so far this year, and one for every day in December. Not sure why. Don't ask. Just…wanted to. So here we are :) Please review! It means so much!**

**-x-**

Arthur has always wanted a brother.

Even as a child, he'd watch the other children in the streets – common, lower class, _inferior_, as he was always told – play together, he'd known that they had something he didn't.

That had confused him. After all, when one glanced around the Pendragon castle it was hard – nay, impossible – to imagine something that they didn't have, showcased proudly by their conceited king amongst all of the elegant, carefully arranged immodesty. Anyway, Pendragon brains are meant not for thought but for blood and war. What use is a head unless you can hit something with it?

As he got older – although not, for the most part, wiser – Arthur realised what he had missed. Something so small, so insignificant and easy to overlook that it came even to him as a surprise that he had finally figured it out; then again, it was something so desirable, so… important, that it also came as a surprise that he hadn't understood earlier on.

Companionship.

So simple. So easy.

So… _unachievable. _

For the prince – soon to be king – this target seemed nigh on impossible. He couldn't recall a time in his life when it had been a _problem_ (always overlooking it as a child, too immersed in solitude to care, but too busy and wary as a man to remember this hidden prize) – so why on earth should it be one now?

The answer was clear to him; _Merlin._

So kind, so friendly and so… _there_, the young manservant had unknowingly provided the prince with an apt opportunity to seize what he had never had before.

_Even if he did call me a prat._

Arthur glanced out of the slim, secretive arrow slit to his right, embedded in the thick castle walls, and smiled. There, on the street below, was Merlin; struggling beneath the weight of his saddle, armour and one pail of water. In a moment of rare compassion, Arthur ran to join him.

_I'll be here for you, brother._


	2. February

**Date: Feb**

**POV: Arthur**

**Stimulus word: Humiliated**

**Dedication: to you, if you're still reading. Ta very much!**

**AN: This is based on 2/8 :) I KNEW Morgose was Morgana's sister :P I mean, could they BE any less imaginative with their names? PLEASE! I also LOLed at the reference to Arthur's mother as a 'man of honour' :L**

Humiliated. Humiliated! In front of all of Camelot!

The prince sighed, bent over his meager lunch. Usually, he would demand something a little more… _grand_, but after today's display of absolute disappointment… He didn't think he deserved it. He winced, ignoring the rumble of his stomach as it roared at him, reminding the prince just how hungry he was.

Could this day _get _any worse?

"Um…"

Apparently, it could.

"I'm sure it'll come out," Merlin stammered, holding out the silk tunic with shaking arms. His knees knocked together. The actions filled the young prince with dread. What was it this time?

Merlin showed him.

"MERLIN!"


	3. March

**Date: March**

**POV: Merlin**

**Stimulus word: Moths**

**AN: This is set during 2/9, when Merlin has kidnapped Morgana's dress and Arthur sees him – I LOLed at that moment :P (this drabble was so fun to write, I can tell you)…**

Great. Bloody great.

Moths. I should've said moths. Moths is good. Moths is _easy. _Moths is even believable.

But then again… when you get caught walking down the corridor with a woman's dress in your arms and a very self-satisfied grin on your face…

What can you actually class as believable?


	4. April

**Date: April**

**POV: Arthur**

**Stimulus word: April Fool (you can probably guess, can't you?)**

"Arise."

Arthur rose from the deep – and, admittedly, quite uncomfortable – bow that he had sunk into. An unnessacery formality, but Arthur did not care; today, he really wanted to impress.

"You bring me good news, I hope?"

"The best," the prince replied, barely restraining the unmistakable pride in his voice. "I have identified the beast successfully."

Behind him, he heard an indignant snort, which quickly turned into a wracking cough. Arthur ignored his manservant, drawing himself up haughtily._ Shut up, Merlin._

"That is good news," Uther said, bearing for once the surprised smile that Arthur saw so rarely. "What is it called?"

"It is called, my lord," here he paused for dramatic effect – "a… a Gullible."

The smile vanished. "A what?"

"A Gullible, my lord," Arthur repeated gravely. His chest swelled with pride; Uther had stopped smiling and was staring at him with an expression of shock and disbelief. Oh, he had really surpassed himself, this time. "It is truly a terrible beast. It has huge, purple claws and a hideous matted pink coat. It lives only in the bathtubs of elderly gentlemen, and enjoys eating their toenails in the night – this is no laughing matter," he warned, turning gravely to face the nobles who stood either side of the court, their hands clutching their stomachs as they heaved with uncontrollable laughter. "I take this threat very seriously. After all how would you feel if it were your father?" At this moment, Sir Gawain's wife collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down her face as she shrieked. Two servants bore her away.

Uther stared in silence at his son for a long while. Finally; "you really have surpassed yourself, Arthur."

The prince beamed. But – why was Morgana laughing? _Jealous, _he smirked, casting her a disapproving eye.

"Everyone out."

Arthur stared in confusion as, one by one, the nobles and servants alike began to make for the door. As Merlin passed him, he could have sworn that the boy whispered something that sounded very much like "happy April fools day, Arthur."


	5. May

**Date: May**

**POV: Merlin**

**Stimulus word: Rolling**

**AN: Pretty pissed off at the amount of reviews coming in, seeing as I have so many hits. Gah. NOW look what you've done! Made me rant all over my favourite drabble! This one's cool. Enjoy, and please review :)**

**Dedication: Um… Ooh, I know. To my favourite God. ILY x**

"Ow!"

"Stay _still_!"

"But it _hurts!_"

Merlin sighed, pausing to survey a particularly matted clump of golden hair before tackling it. Prince Arthur took advantage of the momentary relapse to rub his abused scalp resentfully.

"You squeal like a girl."

"I do _not_ – Ow! Merlin!"

The sorcerer rolled his eyes.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"Next time Sir Gawain proposes a spot of rolling in the mud, please don't say yes."


	6. June

**Date: June**

**POV: Merlin**

**Stimulus word: Soap**

**AN: Thank you all for responding so well to my bullying :P I love you all. :)**

**Dedication: India, for providing me with this rather excellent stimulus ;) Love you hun x**

There's nothing like the sound of angered yells to greet you first thing in the morning. Or, even better, the hideously irate voice from the pampered lips of the soon-to-be king.

"MERLIN!"

The young sorcerer toppled precariously into his master's chambers, eyes wide and something resembling a bird's nest atop his raven head. He ran a shaking hand through the mess, hoping – _praying_ – for it to calm.

"Yes, sire?"

The young prince span around, facing his servant; his face, a vision of thunder.

It would normally have had Merlin terrified.

Not today.

"It's that new soap you made," he explained furiously, jabbing a finger at his suddenly light-blue face. "Tell me you can do something about this."

Sometimes, the still giggling Merlin reflected from the stocks, you just have to laugh.


	7. July

**Date: July**

**POV: Merlin**

**Stimulus word: Running**

**Dedication: Becky, who introduced me to the rather fabulous band who inspired this :)**

**AN: This is based on The Script's song 'Rusty Halo'. Enjoy :)**

Everyone, Merlin reflected, is running from something.

Everyone.

Look at Arthur, for example; he runs from himself. Perpetually petrified at the thought of – for one second – revealing who he his; a terrified boy on a horse with a stick, in love with a servant girl and best friends with his manservant. Horrified. Frightened. Paranoid.

Then there's Morgana, who runs from what lies hidden beneath her perfect face, buried deep – but not deep enough – into her shuddering, sleepless core. Secret. _Magic._ Even the word makes her feel sick. Disgusted. Helpless. Restless.

And Gwen. Gwen, the poor, powerless servant girl, hopelessly in love with the man who will one day rule her world – and is so desperately in denial that she refuses to admit that he does anyway. Why should he need that crown when he already governs her heart? Not, of course, that she governs his. Hopeless. Angry. Nervous.

And, of course, there's Uther; he runs from the past. His encounter with the sorcerer Nimueh has left him half the man he was – or, rather, it had stripped him bear… and new, unpleasant skin had been slapped on the top, violently misleading and hatefully scornful. Powerful. Terrifying. Confused.

_And they all keep running and running and running…_


	8. August

**Date: August**

**POV: Merlin**

**Stimulus word: Nightmare**

**Dedication: Grandad and Uncle David. RIP. I love you, and I'm sorry that I never got to say goodbye. x**

**AN: This is based on a dream that I had the night that my grandfather died. If I can ask you anything, it would be to please, please respect that, and to think about that fact while you read. Thank you. x**

It is night.

It is the kind of night when the earth comes to a halt. The kind of night that never ends, for those who are not joyfully oblivious.

It is the night when Arthur Pendragon will die.

Merlin dreams.

_I stand alone amongst the hundreds of people gathered here in the stone courtyard. Everyone is here. Gwen, Morgana, Uther, Gaius, Freya… everyone. Everyone… save one._

_My hunt for him is hopeless, pained and fruitless. Still, I do not succumb to the weariness that grips me; for I know, deep within me, that if I do not find him – if I do not say goodbye…_

_I turn, for he is there. Yet, strangely, the feeling of complete pain – so whole, gripping, numbing – does not fade. Because, deep inside, some part of me is wondering._

_How long do I get?_

"_I have to go now," he tells me, his heart in his eyes and his smile in mine. I try to smile. This, too, is fruitless. A night of failure._

_His hand is on my cheek as he gestures around the empty courtyard, so full of those that we both know and love. _

"_You're going to be great."_

_And then, he walks away._

_It is not like a normal dream, when everything seems so real, but I know it is not; this time, deep within my very core – my aching, brutally murdered core - I know that this is real. As I watch him walk away, I know that this is the last time I will ever see him._

_It is real. That I know._

And yet… it is not.

Merlin knows that when he awakes, he will have to give some reason to his master as to why he is sat by the side of his bed, silent tears tainting his pale, innocent face like the blood of a lover.

But for now? He couldn't care less.


	9. September

**Date: September**

**POV: Arthur**

**Stimulus word: Silence**

**AN: Gah. I realised just now that I have hardly any drabbles from the POV of anyone other than Merlin or Arthur, so I was going to change this one, but… it's just too good :) Sorry if I offend anyone with this; it's meant to show how awesome women are. Don't kill me!**

**Dedication: owl-eats-waffles, who tickled my inflated ego. Thank you honey :)**

Silence is a powerful thing.

Silence is the iron, thousand-ton wave that hurtles above your head, cutting off all feeling as you battle alone in the empty storm. Silence is the claws of a wild beast, waiting frozen just around the corner.

Silence is a woman's glare when you realise that you just said something very, very wrong.

"What?" Arthur asked helplessly, putting up his hands – Gwen smothered a laugh at the prince's attempt to shield himself from the steaming pool of molten anger that was her mistress. "All I'm saying is that if God is a woman, not only will I go to hell but I won't know why, either."

A knee to the groin is a powerful thing, too.


	10. October

**Date: October**

**POV: Gwen**

**Stimulus word: Flexible**

**AN: Yet again, I'm sorry if I upset anyone with the last drabble. I didn't mean to. Here is the promised drabble from Gwen's POV :) The next will be from either Morgana or Uther… I haven't decided :)**

**Dedication: Whoever invented the 'Random Word Generator' – very inspirational!!**

She'd tried to be flexible.

Oh, how she'd _tried_.

In fact, she'd succeeded; bending herself around him – and so many others – that she may as well have been made out of rubber. She'd slipped and twisted through the complicated, self-obsessed weavings of their simple lives, a needle poised in her frantic hand as she hastened, yet again, to undo the spoil. Damage control; that as all she was to them.

I'm _sorry_, Gwen, I have to go. There are places that still haven't heard of me that I have to go rescue from some tragic fate… a knight's work is never done! I don't know how on earth I'll manage to attend all these parties and banquets, I really don't… what the hell do you do here all day, anyway?

I'm _sorry_, Gwen, I can't marry you. Too busy living up to my father's expectations and making a reputation for myself just so I don't look as stupid as all you bloody servants. Oh, and fix my shirt, won't you?

Would she ever get a thank you?

No, of course not.

And the truth?

She can't find it in her to despise them.


	11. November

**Date: November**

**POV: None**

**Stimulus word: Soup**

**Dedication: breyerfan123, who quoted me on her profile and made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside when I found it :D THANK YOU!**

**AN: Shortest drabble ever. Whooo!**

"Seriously, Gaius, what _is _this?"

"Trust me. It is better that you don't know."

"Fine. …hey, why is the leech tank empty?"


End file.
